


you're more than bolts

by nymic



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Child Abuse, He doesn't get one, Hurt/Comfort, I'M SURE HIS PARENTS ARE GREAT IRL, IRL Fic, Protective Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Protective Wilbur Soot, THEY JUST AREN'T HERE, Taking Breaks, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Victim is Victim Blaming, but he probably does later, i mean they slap him like once but it's there, like he blames himself, mental health, mild disassociation, no beta we die like tommy in prison, video call, virtual hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29873136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymic/pseuds/nymic
Summary: Tommyinnit isn't allowed breaks. He has a schedule, and he follows it to a T, to perfection. Why wouldn't he, it's his job!He should have known better than to ask for one.title inspired by the song Machine by Scott Helman
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 450





	you're more than bolts

**Author's Note:**

> heyo, so just a note on the child abuse tag, it's definitely more emotional, but it is only at the very beginning of the fic. it is later addressed, but not talked about heavily in detail, nor is it talked about in detail during the moment.

The yelling was only getting louder, but Tommy couldn’t be bothered to care. He sat stiffly in the uncomfortable wooden chair, legs still and himself quiet. Picking at the hairs on his arm, he further removed himself from the situation. After all, it would be over soon anyway; he could hear it in his mother’s voice, the way it cracked in faux sob, the way it lilted it’s manipulative tone in an attempt to guilt Tommy.

He could barely hear what she was saying at this point. Something about his break from streaming, he’s sure, but he knew this was coming.

“After all we do for you, you decide to go behind our backs! A break at such a horrible time this year, and not to mention…” He tunes her out. Any time of the year would be a “horrible time” for his mother. Acting like it would be any different would be a mistake on his part, and something he’d learned when he’d first started streaming. Nothing was ever good enough for her or his father, but he supposed that was why he was being yelled at.

A weeklong break was all he had announced to his parents (thankfully not to his audience, yet). Time to recuperate after his daily streams throughout almost the entirety of December, and time to catch up on things he had missed due to his schedule. Not that his parents cared, of course, but he figured because it was his job he would be able to make that decision for himself.

_Wishful thinking_ , his eyes drifted.

The stinging pain resting on his cheek brought him back to attention, his head snapping to the side. He slowly turned back to his mother, but was unsurprised to be greeted with his father instead. His face was an angry purple, mouth moving with no sound escaping his lips.

Drooping eyes trained on the surface of the table, Tommy focusing his thoughts on the burning sensation on his face. All he heard was the muffled shouting of his father and a ringing in his ears.

“—are we clear!? There will be no break, not when you still have bills to pay you ungrateful piece of shit!” Essentially on autopilot, Tommy nods slowly. He expected his father to say more, but the expression on his face told him that was the end of the conversation.

A furious gaze followed Tommy as he stood and left the room. He stumbles up the stairs in a daze.

Opening his door quietly, and closing it with a soft _click,_ he drops into his chair with a loud sigh, and taps the power button for his computer. He drags a hand down his face as he’s greeted with the startup, and after logging in, opens up his streaming applications. He glares at his camera when his face fills the screen. A bruise hasn’t formed yet, but he doesn’t doubt it will soon. Better to do the stream now, he supposes, before he has to put the effort into any concealer. He ponders for a moment, but ultimately types out a generic “chill stream” title, and sets up the Twitter notification.

“Hello boys, and _welcome_ to the stream!” He pulls a coke from the fridge by his feet, and cracks it open. “Tonight’s just a chill stream boys, I’m thinking we play some bedwars, yeah?” He lets out a soft breath.

Chat floods by on his second monitor, and he laughs at a few messages before opening his game.

“You know what? I think I’ll make this into a bit of a story time stream as well, better than just beating up children in a block game.” He enters a lobby, and launches into a more recent story. While he had planned it for a video, he didn’t feel like putting on a character.

_he’s a bit quieter tonight, isn’t he?_

_quietinnit!!_

_who knew the gremlin could be calm lmfao_

_POGCHAMP_

The stream ends up lasting for almost three hours, filled with angry shouting and cursing at choice points, but primarily a much more chill Tommy than chat was likely used to. He decided he kind of liked it, pushing off the obnoxious persona to just hang out with his chat.

“Alright, that’s it for tonight, chat! I hope you all enjoyed the stream, but I’m gonna send you over to Tubbo, so you better flood his chat with pogchamps! None of that BTTV shit—” He said his goodbyes, before clicking the raid button and watching his programs one by one tell him that he’s offline. Tommy lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, and slouches in his chair. Rubbing his eyes, Tommy looks to his discord window. A red marker sits on Wilbur’s profile icon in his messages, and he curses. Debating whether or not to actually open the message, he sighs. If he suddenly went offline, he’d be called immediately, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hang up on Wilbur. Grimacing, he opens the DM.

_Hey Toms, was watching your_

_stream and you seemed a bit_

_quieter than normal, is everything_

_okay?_

_yeah big man, i’m fine_

A call floods the screen of his monitor, and Tommy groans. He should have said something else, of _course_ that message was going to sound suspicious. And it’s not like he can just not answer him. It’s _Wilbur._

His mouse hovers over the answer button, but he clicks, and the ringing stops.

“Tommy? You there?” Wilbur’s voice slices through the silence, and Tommy almost smiles. Almost.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

The silence that was broken returned. Tommy sat awkwardly in his chair, waiting for Wilbur to say something.

“Remember when we talked about breaks, Toms? It can’t have been that long ago, and you said you were going to talk to your parents about it?” Tommy restrained himself from slamming his head on his desk. To be fair, he _did_ ask. They just said no.

“I remember.”

“I wanted to ask how that went. But mostly, the reason I called was because you were pretty quiet on stream today, you seemed kind of drained.”

Tommy closed his eyes and let out a breath. “I just felt like streaming a bit less, uh, Tommyinnit, tonight. Chat seemed to like it anyway, so I didn’t mind.”

He could hear Wilbur on the other end trying to figure out what to say.

“Tommy, can you turn on your camera for me? I think we should talk about this face to face,” Wilbur snorts, “or, at least as face to face as possible.”

Tommy froze. The stream had lasted for a long time, and when he had ended, he could feel the bruise on his face. He turned to the software still open on his computer, and his eyes widened at the mark that had formed.

“Uh… give me a second Wilbur.” How the hell was he supposed to cover this? He paused. Looking back at the window showing his face, he quietly groaned. There was no way he _could_ cover this up. The discoloration is so bad that not even concealer would save him at this point.

“Tommy, are you still there?”

Tommy choked. “Yeah, yeah I’m still here big man.” He took one last look at the mark, before resigning himself. Tapping the video button, he averts his gaze at the gasp that erupts from the other end of the call. Wilbur’s face covers his screen as he turns his camera on.

“Tommy, what the _hell_ is that? That wasn’t there during stream…”

He looks at the clock at the corner of his screen. Half-past 11. Well, he was already screwed at this point, but at least his parents were asleep.

Tommy opened his mouth, but nothing could escape.

A shaky breath leaves Wilbur’s mouth. “Okay, I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to answer me honestly. Can you do that for me, Toms?” He looks back to the screen at the sound of his name, and he slowly nods.

“Who did that to you?” Tommy looks to his desk, and Wilbur backtracks. “Maybe we try something else. How about I name people, and you just shake your head yes or no?” He thinks he can do that.

“Was it a friend?” A shake.

“Bullies?” Another shake.

“Your mom?” A pause, but eventually another shake. Tommy can see the minute Wilbur’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“Your dad?” A longer pause, then a nod. A hand covered Wilbur’s mouth as a horrified expression washed over his face.

“Toms, is he one of the reasons you’re not taking a break like we talked about?” Wilbur looked so genuinely heartbroken, but so determined to figure out what was going on, and Tommy’s heart felt warm.

“Yeah, I ended up asking him tonight, but uh—” Tommy gestures to the mark and let out an awkward laugh. Wilbur’s eyes shine, and Tommy quickly continues what he was going to say. “It’s fine though, really! I mean it’s my job, and I’m the one who pissed him off anyway.”

“Tommy, no—!”

“I shouldn’t have asked him, I knew this would have happened anyway. Besides, I have to pay my share, and a break wouldn’t have worked for that.”

Wilbur looked lost in thought. “Pay… your share?”

“Yeah! I mean, I live in this house, and I’m always using up the internet and being so loud at night, it makes sense that I’d have to pay for living here.” Tommy continues blindly, not noticing Wilbur’s stormy look through the discord call.

“Tommy, you shouldn’t be paying for the bills.”

The sixteen year-old brushed off his statement, “No, I have to, Wilbur. I always push our internet and electricity bills, and I make so much money so it makes sense for me to pay for everything. I owe it to them.”

“You don’t owe anyone _shit_ , Tommy! You’re a kid, you shouldn’t be paying for bills, you should be relaxing and having fun, taking care of yourself!” Tommy frowns, eyebrows furrowing in anger. Wilbur still didn’t get it, he _had to. He_ was the drain on resources, _he_ was the one causing problems. He had to pay it back to them. If that was with his money, and a consistent schedule without breaks, then that’s how it would be. He was lucky they even let him stream in the first place.

Silence permeated the call for the third time that night, and Tommy looked back to the video to see Wilbur crying on-screen.

Tommy’s eyes widened, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Wilbur—”

“You’re not a _machine_ , Tommy!” The sentence echoed through his headset. “You’re a person, a human being. A fucking _child!_ You shouldn’t be worrying about bills, about how much you have to spend for you to eat, about whether or not your parents are going to _hit you_.” Tommy’s eyes burn, and his face flushes red.

Wilbur wipes his eyes and lets out a sigh. “You shouldn’t have to worry about things that aren’t yours to worry about, Toms.”

The call stays quiet for a few moments, apart from a few sniffs and harsh intakes of breath in Tommy’s attempt to keep himself from sobbing. A soft hum startles him out of his tears, and he pulls his legs to his chest to rest his head on his knees. Wilbur continues the tune, smiling sadly at Tommy’s camera. They sit together for a while, Wilbur grabbing his guitar at some point to play, and Tommy quietly humming along to force some sort of normalcy back into the situation.

“Do you understand what I'm telling you, Tommy?”

“Understand what?” His voice is quiet and his question is mumbled, but Wilbur thanks everything that he’s still willing to speak right now.

“You don’t owe anyone your time, your money, or the loss of your feeling of safety. Even if you think you do, I promise you, you don’t.” Wilbur continues to strum the instrument, no distinct pattern in mind. “Do you understand me, Toms?” A small, barely noticeable nod. “Do you _believe_ me?”

Tommy looks up to Wilbur’s face, eyes red but emotions calmer than they had been in a while.

“Yeah, big man. I think I do.”

His voice cracks, but Wilbur doesn't say anything.

And if Wilbur contacted Tommy’s parents to threaten legal repercussion in return for the signing of guardianship over to him, well, Tommy didn’t need to know that until later.


End file.
